author of gay erotic romance

It isn’t that state trooper Mitch Adams doesn’t trust his boyfriend Daryl Danson. They’ve been in an exclusive relationship for eight years, the last five of which they’ve lived together. He knows Daryl isn’t interested in other guys, and he knows Daryl loves him.

But Mitch doesn’t like the fact that Daryl, a physical therapist turned professional masseuse, spends his working hours touching other people’s bodies. It’s hard to understand that the loving massages he receives in the bedroom aren’t the norm, especially since he’s never had a professional massage.

Mitch decides to do a little investigative work and discover for himself what exactly happens in the massage parlor. But when Daryl finds out about the appointment, he decides to give his lover a rub-down Mitch won’t soon forget.

Inside the employee break room, Erin peered around the door, then let it swing shut. Turning to her coworkers, she let out a little squeal. “Yay! Hot guy at noon for me,” she said, her voice low so it wouldn’t carry into the quiet room. “You should see him. Woo! Sexy.”

Daryl and Manny were at the table, eating sandwiches Manny had picked up for the three of them. Erin’s was half-eaten nearby. The two men exchanged an amused glance. “I think you got my noon appointment by mistake,” Manny teased.

“Let’s see this hottie,” Daryl said, pushing back his chair.

As he passed, Erin grabbed his shirt. “You got a man, Dar. That one’s mine. Leave him alone.”

“Just because I got a man doesn’t mean I can’t look.” Daryl eased open the swinging door and glanced into the quiet room. At first he thought it was empty, then he heard a quiet cough. Something about the sound was familiar, and he ducked his head out farther ...

Then the door swung shut with a slap. “Shit!” he cried, eyes wide. “That’s my Mitch!”

Daryl looked again, and this time Erin pushed in front of him to look, too. Manny’s chair scraped as he came over to look, as well. “That’s Mitch,” Daryl whispered. His lover looked so incongruous perched on the edge of the chaise lounge, obviously ill at ease. “I wonder why he’s here.”

Erin elbowed him and he stepped back, letting the door swing shut again. “Well, duh,” she said. “He’s obviously here for a massage. With me, I might add.”

Manny’s brows furrowed together and he asked Daryl, “You don’t give him private sessions at home? Man, if I had a guy like that in my bed, he wouldn’t have to ask --”

“I do,” Daryl insisted. Mitch’s presence in his workplace bothered him slightly. What was Mitch doing there? And why hadn’t he requested Daryl as a masseuse? Unless ...

Daryl had it. A sly grin spread across his face. “I know what this is about,” he told his coworkers. “Mitch thinks all we do is dole out cheap thrills all day long.”

“Cheap?” Erin cried, rolling her eyes. “Does he even know we expect a tip? Because if he stiffs me --”

“No, let him stiff me,” Daryl said. At her frown, he quickly explained, “You know how it is when you’re massaging a lover. Mitch thinks that’s what we do all day long. He doesn’t realize the special treatment I give him at home is reserved for him alone.”

Erin shook her head. “Well, if he thinks I’m getting freaky with him, he has another think coming.”

“That’s just it,” Daryl said. “You take him back and get him set up. When you leave the room, dim the lights and tell him to undress. Then we’ll tag-team. I’ll go in and do the massage for you. He won’t know at first, and when things turn a little intimate --”